


The Kindness of Strangers

by sunstarunicorn



Series: It's a Magical Flashpoint [25]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Flashpoint (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Post-Book: The Last Battle (Narnia), Suicidal Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-19 05:45:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14230599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunstarunicorn/pseuds/sunstarunicorn
Summary: Roy Lane is in the middle of his magic-side crash course…and beginning to regret agreeing to a magical partner when two Obliviators come in with a report of a Muggle woman being protected by a hag.  But why would a hag protect anyone, much less a Muggle?





	1. Stranger in a Strange World

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the twenty-fifth in the Magical Flashpoint series. It follows "Defying the Odds".
> 
> Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own _Flashpoint_ , _Harry Potter_ , _Narnia_ , or _Merlin_.
> 
> Also, I apologize to you all that this story did not have a summary until today...I don't know how I missed it, but I did. That has now been fixed, so feel free to kick me if it's not.

Roy bit back a groan as Giles dropped another massive tome onto the desk they were using. Honestly, how _many_ laws and regulations did a world maybe a tenth the size of the tech world _need_? He pushed the book open to a random page and blinked in bewilderment at the first law that caught his eye. “You actually have a law on the books prohibiting Apparition onto a ‘moving Muggle dirigible’? I don’t even know what that is!”

He got a surprised look from Giles. “Isn’t that what you use to fly?” the other asked, cocking his head to the side.

Roy shook his head and pulled out his brand-new magical smartphone to look up the term ‘dirigible’. When he saw the result, he didn’t bother trying to hide his laughter. “Oh, wow, I don’t think anyone’s used those to travel since _The Hindenburg_.”

“The what?”

With a shake of his head, Roy got himself under control and looked up _The Hindenburg_. Once he’d found the photo, he turned the phone so Giles could see _The Hindenburg_ going up in flames. “Almost half of the people on board died,” Roy explained as Giles gaped at the picture, “After that, no one wanted to fly on airships. If we fly, we use either airplanes or helicopters. There might be a few others, but that’s what you’ll see the most.” Roy pulled up pictures of an airliner and a helicopter to show his new partner. Once Giles had taken the images in, Roy waved a hand at the tome in front of him. “How many _other_ laws have you got like that one?”

Giles shrugged. “Probably a lot,” he admitted. “We magicals don’t tend to change much…and usually the politicians just add a new law or division instead of changing what’s already there.”

Roy groaned again and let his head thump down on the thick book. “Why did I think this was a good idea?” he mumbled, drawing a brief chuckle from the wizard.

“Want a break?” Giles offered, “There’s two Obliviators just about having a fit out there.”

“Oh?” Roy pushed himself up with no hesitation at all. A break was just what he needed right now. “Those are the guys who run around changing memories, right?” He grimaced at the thought; the idea of erasing memories gave _him_ the wiggins.

“Yeah, they are.” Giles shifted so he was just a bit in front of his new partner. Ever since he’d started working with Team One, he’d picked up on their distaste and suspicion for the Obliviators; he suspected half the reason they made sure no one found out about magic was so they never had to be a party to erasing someone else’s memories.

Outside, two Obliviators were just about begging the front desk Auror to dispatch ‘someone, _anyone_ ’ to help them with a Muggle woman. “What seems to be the problem?” Giles asked politely.

The older Obliviator’s expression conveyed sheer relief. “Thank Merlin. We have a Muggle woman who managed to stumble into the slums,” Roy noticed Giles went on high alert at this news, “and when we tried to get her out, the hag who runs that camp wouldn’t let her go.”

The other Obliviator nodded vigorously. “It was weird; the hag acted like she was _protecting_ the Muggle from us.”

Roy had learned enough about the magical world that his first thought – and sentence – actually made sense to him. “Since when does a _hag_ protect someone?”

* * * * *

_2 hours earlier_

The woman woke suddenly, jerking up off the tattered blanket underneath her and looking around rather frantically. It only took a moment to realize that she didn’t know where she was, what she’d been doing, and, most terrifying, _who_ she was. Her breath started coming quicker and quicker as she searched for any clues or hints, but found nothing. The room looked large, but it was dark and dingy.

“Calm down, dearie,” a rasping cluck came from nearby. The woman turned towards the voice. “You’re safe enough here. My, my, Rexas certainly did you no favors when he panicked like that.”

“Who?” the woman asked without thinking.

A wheezy chuckle. “One of the young ones here, dearie. I’m afraid he was quite surprised when you stumbled through the gateway and smacked into him.”

The woman grimaced as she felt a lump on the back of her head, but said nothing. She felt around a bit more, finding that her hair was in a neat ponytail. In the dimness, she couldn’t see very well, but her clothing looked neat and well-kept, her muscles were lean and tough, and she had a sturdy set of boots on. Reflexively, she searched for a wallet and a leather one fell free of her pocket; she grabbed, but missed and it landed on the floor.

She was reaching for it when a small figure darted in and snapped it up. “What is it? Is it a treat? Is it a toy? Mmmm…made of leather, can I play with it? Can I? Can I? Pleeaassee?”

A chiding cluck came from nearby. “Give that back, Brightpaw. We mustn’t upset the Lion-touched.”

“Awww,” the little pup whined as he let the wallet fall from his muzzle. “I just wanted to play with it.”

The woman pounced on the wallet, opening it with a desperate hope. She could barely read it in the bad light, but she let out her breath in some relief when she saw her name. _Julianna Callaghan._ The name was unfamiliar, but it felt right. It took her a few more seconds to realize the young pup was watching her with fear in his eyes. “Why are you scared?” she asked the small animal.

Brightpaw cringed back, hiding his muzzle under one paw. “Don’t be mad at me,” he whimpered, “I just wanted to play.”

Julianna was confused by the open fear. “I’m not mad,” she finally replied, “Why would I be?” She’d been annoyed when the pup snatched her wallet, but his bubbling enthusiasm almost made her laugh, despite her rather terrifying situation.

“We Fell Creatures are not well-liked by the Lion-touched, dearie,” the first voice she’d heard in this place explained. A _clickety-clack_ came from right by the robed, cowled speaker; Julianna cocked her head, trying to see what the speaker was working on. “Brightpaw meant no harm by his actions; he is young.”

“I’m not mad,” Julianna repeated, “Who are you? And what do you mean, ‘Lion-touched’?” She was careful to keep her eyes off the little pup; somehow she knew he was still afraid of her.

In the darkness, the figure studied her, choosing to answer her second question first. “You have the smell of Narnian magic about you. ‘Tis unmistakable for one such as I; magic as old and as deep as Narnia itself. Someone close to you _must_ be descended of the First Ruling Line; only they would have such magic these days.” Little Brightpaw yipped in surprise at the figure’s declaration and trembled harder. “And as for who I am, I be Granny Cantril,” the raspy, clucking figure introduced herself. “I run this camp, such as it is. A safe haven for those of us who are hated by Dark and Light alike.”

Julianna shifted and casually offered a hand for little Brightpaw to sniff at; as he crept closer, she could see him well enough to realize that he was a wolf pup. He sniffed at her, watching for any angry reactions; when she just waited, his ears pricked, his tail came up, and he all but bounced to sit right by her. “You’re hated by Light and Dark?” she questioned Granny Cantril.

“Oh, yes, dearie,” Granny Cantril confirmed. “All are welcome here, but they must leave our Old Ways behind. We do not hunt humans, we do not serve the various Dark Lords as they rise and fall, and we follow, as best we can, the Laws of Narnia.”

“So the Dark hates you for taking their soldiers away,” Julianna mused. “But why does the Light hate you?”

Granny Cantril’s loom clicked and clacked for some minutes as she considered Julianna’s question. “We are Fell,” she explained at last, “The Light hates us for what we were, what we were responsible for. The cursed, fallen children of Narnia.”

“But you changed, didn’t you?” Julianna shivered a little; the room was a bit drafty and she had no coat. Most of her was still panicking over not having her memory and there was a small part that was insisting that there was something _really_ important that she needed to do, but she had a feeling – a gut instinct – that she was helping someone right now who _needed_ help.

“Changed?” Granny Cantril mused to herself. “That’s most kind of you, dearie. Most kind; I thank you for the compliment.”

“Are you cold?” Brightpaw yipped, “Is that why you’re shaking? Mother always tells us to curl up when we’re cold. Will you curl up with me?”

Julianna laughed at the little bouncing wolf pup. His tail waved back and forth; any faster and she’d compare it to a dog’s tail. He’d lost that fearful look as he danced back and forth from paw to paw, his muzzle open in a canine grin and his tongue lolling out. “You’re a little small for me to curl up with you,” she told the pup, “But thanks for the offer.”

“Awww…I’m _never_ big enough to do anything fun,” the pup pouted.

With another chuckle, Julianna looked back at Granny Cantril. “Who else do you have here in your camp?”

Granny Cantril considered the question. “We are the wolves, the minotaurs, the black dwarves, the ogres, the harpies, and the dryads who once served the Queen of Narnia, Jadis.” A sardonic chuckle. “And, of course, one hag.”

Something about all of that sounded…not right. “And _all_ of you served this Jadis?”

A crackly cluck. “Quite dramatic if I could say yes, wouldn’t it be, dearie? But I cannot. We are the descendants of that august company; the hated of Narnia. The ones to whom the Lion said, ‘Thy will be done,’ when at last the end of Narnia came.”

“And you regret that,” Julianna realized. She didn’t know _how_ she knew that, but she did.

“Ahhhhhh,” Granny Cantril mused. “And there we have it, dearie. I did wonder why the Lion would choose one without a lick of magic. And perhaps I still do not see, but you have a heart that knows, better than your mind, who you are.”

Julianna jerked in surprise. “My heart knows who I am?” she questioned, reflexively placing one hand over her heart.

Granny Cantril nodded sagely as she put her loom into motion again, drawing another _clack_ from the wood as the threads were pushed into place. “Some things not even the greatest of magic can steal from us, dearie.” At Julianna’s start, she added, “Oh, yes, dearie, I noticed. Some fool wizard stole your memories.” Brightpaw whined in clear distress. “Sometimes, such things may be hidden from us, but taken? Never. You may not know who you are or where you come from, but your heart whispers, telling you things that are true, even if you don’t know _how_ you know.”

The woman bit her lip. “I think I’d prefer it if my heart spoke louder,” she decided.

True laughter rang out. “Oh, my, dearie, so do we all, so do we all. But it’s said that the Lion whispers so that we can learn to _listen_ for that one, still whisper in the depths.” Again, sorrow and regret lurked beneath the words.

And it prompted an unusual question from the woman. “Why are you so sad?”

Granny Cantril did not deny it. She pondered and mused. “Because once I had the chance to be more than I am and I did not take it. And now I am cursed to know that my greatest sin, my greatest arrogance, has closed the gates of the Lion’s Country to my people.”


	2. The Tale of Granny Cantril

Julianna couldn’t help but stare at the figure…at the hag…who’d just calmly proclaimed herself the cause of her people’s downfall. “So much for not being dramatic,” she quipped, drawing a yip of laughter from Brightpaw and a wheezy chuckle-cluck from Granny Cantril.

“Brightpaw,” Granny Cantril bade the young wolf, “Go and fetch the other young of the camp. ‘Tis time you hear our history.”

“Oh, boy!” Brightpaw cried in excitement, chasing his tail for a few seconds before darting away, going further into the camp.

“And, of course, dearie, you may stay right where you are and hear the tale as well,” Granny Cantril declared, her loom click-clacking in front of her. “After, we will do what we can to give you aid and safe passage.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

For some reason, this caused a great deal of amusement; the hag cackled to herself and focused on her weaving. In short order, Brightpaw returned, reclaiming the spot right next to Julianna, his tail waving wildly. Julianna’s eyes were wide as she watched young of all shapes and sizes gather before Granny Cantril, including a sheepish ogre who apologized to Julianna for hitting her earlier. Julianna graciously accepted the apology, prompting a storm of furtive whispering among the young ones.

“And so we gather once again,” Granny Cantril declared, silencing the whispering. “To hear the tale of our history: our rise and our fall.” The loom clicked even harder and Julianna started as she realized that an image was beginning to form above the fabric.

“In the time before time, the Lion walked forth and began to sing our world into existence. His song rang in the empty spaces, in the silent sky, and in the depths of waters not yet formed.”

In the loom’s image, Julianna saw the Lion, in all His glory, singing a song she couldn’t hear. Around Him, the empty vastness became grass, trees, and forests. A river bubbled along near the Lion and creatures of every description appeared to follow the Lion.

“But even in the infancy of our world, the seeds of its downfall were sown. From another world, a fallen, shattered world, came our Queen: Jadis, Empress of the Lone Isles. At first the Lion drove her far from our lands and all of Narnia lived in peace and prosperity. But, in time, the defense the Lion crafted fell into disrepair and when it was gone, our Queen arrived in a storm of snow and ice to claim her throne.”

Julianna watched as a cruel, cold woman took over a small, peaceful land, crushing all resistance with a mercilessness that chilled her to the bone. The casual malice this ‘Queen’ used on her subjects made her fists clench. Even the ‘Queen’s’ _own_ servants were not safe from her cruelty and sick delight in the suffering of others.

“Under our Queen, we flourished and grew. We cared little for the disdain and anger of our fellow Narnians; ‘twas _they_ who were foolish to believe her reign would ever come to an end, _she_ who was _immortal_. But then the Lion returned, dismissing her winter with the merest baring of His teeth and summoning spring with a brief shake of His mane. And when He allowed Himself to die in a traitor’s stead, the Table, which had been the source of her authority, split in two and death itself worked backwards. Our Queen fell under His claws. And we were scattered.”

The only reason Julianna didn’t cheer the ‘Queen’s’ death was because she didn’t want to draw attention to herself. As far as she was concerned, that death had given all of Narnia freedom, _including_ the creatures around her. Those around her did not agree; even Brightpaw bowed his head in grief at the ‘Queen’s’ death.

“Some of us forsook our ways to follow the Just King of Narnia…the so-called Traitor’s Army. Those of us who remained loyal to our Queen were forced ever further into hiding. In time, the Four Kings and Queens vanished, and with their vanishing, all of Narnia fell into disrepair and gloom. The Telmarines conquered our land and we began to unite with those who had once been our enemies. It was a dark time for all, as we were driven into the forests by the Telmarines, feared and despised. Some even abandoned the ways of Talking Animals and became little more than dumb beasts. When the Telmarine prince fled his death at the hands of his usurper uncle, some among us sought our chance. We would call back our Queen and so free our land from the invaders. But the Four Kings and Queens returned at the call of the Gentle Queen’s horn and they refused to permit our Queen’s return.”

Julianna watched the battles play out above the loom in astonishment. The entire story sounded like something she’d heard once, somewhere, but she couldn’t _remember_. And something about the way Granny Cantril told the story spoke to her growing suspicion that Granny Cantril didn’t believe all of what she was saying.

“History moved on; the Kings of Narnia ruled peacefully and well as the ages marched on, but always we waited and watched. Our Queen could not be returned, but perhaps we could strike in her name once more. At last our chance arrived. A selfish Ape tricked his friend into wearing a lion’s skin, into pretending to be the Lion Himself. The Ape colluded with Narnia’s ancient enemies, the Calormenes, and crafted a new tale; that of Tash-lan, Aslan and Tash as one god, rather than opposites. The tale was false; we knew this from the very start. But it served our purpose well, so we aided the spread of the tale and gloried in the fall of Narnia into Calormene hands.”

The images played out; Julianna was horrified by the fate of the innocent Narnians. The young around her were uncomfortable as well; Brightpaw whined in distress as two Talking Horses were whipped to exhaustion by their overseers.

Silence hung for a long moment. “Then He returned, calling all of Narnia home to His Country. Narnia itself passed away, leaving naught but a frozen wasteland. He denied us entrance, declaring that our own actions had shown our defiance of Him and His Father, the Emperor-beyond-the-Sea. And so we were sent here, to a land unlike our own, strangers in a strange land. We became the cannon fodder for this Dark Lord and that Dark Lady, but never have we received even the meanest, most trivial respect from them. Even the Queen, rest her soul, gave us more respect than any of those we have served here. This camp was born in our deepest despair and longing for a place to call our own. We follow the Lion, as best we can, and we refrain from those actions which would make our existence distasteful to the humans who rule this land. And we pass down our story, so that none will forget our rise and our fall and the price we have paid for our arrogance.”

In the loom’s imagery, Julianna saw the end of Narnia and the deaths of the Fell Creatures as they followed orders given by those who made the ‘Queen’ seem kind and friendly in comparison. The beginnings of the camp took shape and as the story came to a close, the magic that made the images faded away, leaving the simple loom and its woven cloth on display. The clacking of the loom fell silent.

* * * * *

Brightpaw curled up next to Julianna, letting out periodic little sniffs and snorts as he napped. Quietly, Julianna asked the hag next to them, “So, is that how you came here?”

Granny Cantril gave a clucking, raspy laugh. “You could say that, dearie. My grandmother, back thirteen generations, served the Queen and retrieved the pieces of her broken wand from the fields of Beruna where she fell. My grandmother, back seven generations, was the one who, with the black dwarf Nikabrik and a Werewolf, sought to bring our Queen back to life. The Magnificent High King Peter and the Just King Edmund interrupted the ritual with the help of the red dwarf Trumpkin and slew all who attempted to return our Queen. So, you see, darkness is steeped in my line.”

“But what did _you_ do?” Julianna pressed.

“Wise and clear-sighted,” Granny Cantril observed sorrowfully. “Very well, young Lion-touched, I will tell you. My coven was the driving force behind the false god Tash-lan and the enslavement of Narnia. I say _my_ coven, for so it was; I led them proudly and well. In my defiance and arrogance, I never saw the danger I led them into. We were banished by the Lion, forbidden from ever crossing into His Country, doomed to wander long and far. Six hundred of your years I have lived and I grow weary of my wandering.” The loom clicked to a halt and Granny Cantril removed the fabric from the loom, sighing as she inspected it. “Uneven and crooked once more.” She shook her head. “Ah, would that I could craft something of value and worth, for my people to hawk for a bit of coin.”

“You’re looking at it in the dark,” Julianna pointed out. “What if you looked at it in the light?” It took a moment for her to realize that both Brightpaw and Granny Cantril were staring at her in astonishment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full credit to C.S. Lewis for the brief overview of several of his Narnia books. I believe I mentioned events from _The Magician's Nephew_ , _The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe_ , _Prince Caspian_ , and _The Last Battle_. I also borrowed the idea of the Traitor's Army from TheNotSoMutantTurtles on Fanfiction.net.
> 
> On the RL front, we have been told that A) we will be taking the exams for our certifications this Saturday and B) we are probably interviewing Monday and/or Tuesday. For the former, we have yet to be given any of the details and for the latter, we apparently need to update our resumes according to a template we...haven't been given yet...
> 
> Please continue to pray for me as I struggle to keep up with studying that is becoming increasingly boring and distasteful as I go over it again. And again. And again.


	3. The Tapestry

Granny Cantril recovered first. “We are creatures of Dark, dearie; the Light is anathema to us. We dare not cross into the sun’s rays.”

“Why?” Julianna asked, quite reasonably. “Unless you’re like vampires or something.” For a moment, she was taken aback that she knew what vampires were, but she couldn’t remember anything about herself. She shivered, wishing that whatever had taken her memory away had never happened. Something else nudged at her, a feeling that she was running out of time to do…something.

The hag drew back, tilting her head to the side in consideration. “We are not,” she replied finally. “But the sun is the Lion’s, as are all things that He calls good. For a Fell Creature to tempt His wrath…”

“Have you ever tried?” Julianna challenged. “How do you know unless you try?”

Brightpaw was beginning to get excited again, dancing from paw to paw. “Can we, Granny Cantril? Can we go outside? Can we try? I want to try.”

Granny Cantril’s voice turned severe. “Would you bring needless grief to your mother, Brightpaw? Already she mourns your eldest sisters, who left our camp and served the British Dark Lord to their deaths.”

Brightpaw whined, ducking back.

“I would offer to go first,” Julianna mused, “But I’m not a member of your camp.”

“No,” Granny Cantril agreed, “You are not. But now that the idea is set forth, I do not think my warnings will long detain young Brightpaw. I will follow your advice, Lion-touched, but I ask that you keep Brightpaw back as I step into the sun’s light.”

“I will,” Julianna promised. She went to stand and realized her wallet was still in her hands. Without thinking, she let it drop to the blanket; she would get it when she came back.

* * * * *

The entire building had sheeting and boards over the windows; they had to walk to the building’s highest floor to even get a peek at the sunlight outside. Julianna noticed that Granny Cantril and Brightpaw went out of their way to avoid the places where the sun broke through and shone on the floor. When they reached what had once been a balcony, Granny Cantril halted, looking uncertain under her robes and cowl. She looked down at the tapestry in her hands, folding and opening the fabric as she considered the single step between her and the sunlight.

“You can do it,” Julianna encouraged her from behind. “Just one more step.”

Granny Cantril audibly swallowed and, steeling herself, took a step forward. The hag immediately cringed, as if expecting to be struck down on the spot. But nothing happened; the sun shone down on the hag, lighting up her black robes and revealing delicate gray embroidery on the hem of her cowl. She turned back towards Julianna, her dark eyes wide under the cowl.

Brightpaw yipped excitedly and bounced forward himself; as he entered the light, his coat lit up. His paws were a silvery color and most of his sleek coat was a dusky gray, with brown accents on his shoulders and muzzle. Where his coat wasn’t gray or brown, he sported a silvery-gray color and his tail was a mix of the silvery-gray and the brown hues. To Julianna’s bemusement, he had a brown accent around most of his right eye, his left ear was entirely brown, and his right ear, though a silvery-gray, had brown markings in the shape of a pawprint.

The pup gamboled around the sunlit balcony with little yelps of excitement and much sniffing. “Oh, wow, I wonder what that smell looks like,” he cried as he paused at one of the far pillars. Tiring of the smells – at least for the moment – he bounced back towards Julianna and Granny Cantril; he stopped in front of them, tongue lolling out and his tail going even faster than a dog’s would. “Can we do this again, Granny Cantril? Can we, can we? Please say we can.”

Julianna laughed and crouched down to give the pup a scratch behind his ears. “One thing at a time, you,” she teased. She turned, still crouched and cocked her head to the side. “Can we see the tapestry in the light?”

The hag followed her guest’s eyes to the tapestry as if she’d forgotten why Julianna had proposed the trip in the first place. Her nod was stiff and, again, she braced herself before lifting the tapestry and pulling it open.

The sun’s light landed on the fabric and it lit, even more than the two Fell Creatures had. Far from being crooked and misshapen, it was beautiful. A forest scene played out on its surface, two animals playing in a small clearing with a bubbling brook in the background. A violet phoenix flew above a brunet gryphon, the pair dancing back and forth on the fabric as if they hadn’t a care in the world. Julianna felt her breath catch as she looked at them; she _knew_ them, even if she couldn’t name them right now.

But a dark figure lurked at one side of the tapestry, a cruel, angry figure. Pitch black, save for the greedy ruby-red eyes, with a vulture head and four arms with grasping claws instead of hands. The two looking at the tapestry could _see_ its hatred and its malice towards the playing animals. Claws worked angrily, scraping together and the figure gave a soundless shriek as it leapt forward.

Another gryphon intercepted the figure, forcing it back. Julianna noticed the new gryphon was crippled, its wings bent and unable to fly, but she got the sense that the gryphon preferred not to fly anyway. The vulture figure howled outrage and slashed at the crippled gryphon, drawing blood.

The Lion’s roar was at the edge of hearing, more real than the vulture’s angry hisses and cackles. The vulture creature cowered and fled from the Lion as He landed, right where it had been. The crippled gryphon was nudged towards his still playing charges and the Lion took up a stance where the vulture creature had first appeared, His tail lashing in satisfaction.

“Oh, wow, it’s like your stories, Granny Cantril,” Brightpaw burst out. “It tells a story; I’m not sure what the story is, but it has a story. And the Lion is in it!”

Granny Cantril pulled the tapestry down to inspect it herself; a breathless cluck came from her as she saw the trio of playing animals with the Lion watching over them all. “By the Lion’s Mane, so it does.”

Tentative, Julianna asked, “Do you still have the other tapestries you’ve made.”

A nod. “I do, dearie. Never could stand to let them be torn to shreds, no matter how bitter I became. I doubt all of them are good, but now that you’ve advised me, Lion-touched, we shall see.” Granny Cantril looked at Julianna with tears in her eyes. “I will never forget your kindness to this old, accursed soul. Lion’s Blessing upon you, dearie.”

“Granny Cantril!” the young ogre from before called; he halted before he entered the light, his expression nervous. “Two wizards are here; they say we have a Muggle in our camp.”

Granny Cantril whipped around, already sniffing in disdain. “Stuff and nonsense, Rexas; the Lion-touched may not have magic herself, but she is _far_ from a ‘Muggle’. I imagine our visitors are those high-handed Obliviators with more magic then sense?”

Julianna giggled at the description as the ogre nodded sheepishly. “Yes, Granny Cantril.”

Another disdainful sniff. “Tell them I will not permit them to harm ‘the Muggle’ any further than their kind already has. Tell them to send another Lion-touched here as soon as one may be found.” Granny Cantril turned towards Julianna and added, “Where there is one Lion-touched, dearie, there are bound to be others. They will know who you are and perhaps can help undo the harm that was done to your memories.” The hag turned back to Rexas and finished, “See that the two fools do not find their way up here and ask your mother to discreetly bar the path until they have left.”

Rexas pounded his chest once. “As you say, Granny Cantril.” Then he hurried off.

“I hope they leave soon,” Julianna whispered, drawing both the hag and the wolf pup’s eyes to her. “I think I have to do something.”

“And what’s that, dearie?”

A shiver went through Julianna and light brown eyes met the two pairs of curious eyes – one dark and one a pale blue – looking back at her. “I think…I think I have to save someone’s life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, right after I posted the previous chapter, I discovered that my company is giving up the lease on the apartment I've been staying in. The same apartment that, by the way, they'd _literally_ just moved someone into! As in, _the night before!_ Therefore, the six girls (including me) had to move all our stuff as well as the communal apartment things we wanted in the _new_ place by next Wednesday 9AM. Of course, I _also_ have to do my certification _tomorrow_ and I _may_ (read probably) have an interview with prospective employer Monday and/or Tuesday. So...fun stuff... (/sarcasm).
> 
> So...Tuesday and Wednesday have been a frenzy of packing and moving (6 girls, 2 cars...do the math). We are, for the most part, moved into the new place and all that remains is cherry picking what more we want from the old place (before Wednesday), though I still have to find out if I have to pry a stupid sticker off my windshield to 'surrender' my parking pass for old place. Organizing in the new place however...yeah...not done, probably won't _be_ done for another day or so. Also, we just moved in...and we have ants. Happy joy (/sarcasm).
> 
> Prayer needs:  
> 1\. Planning for the inevitable next move. Frankly, I did a lousy job of compressing my stuff for a move, even so short of one, and probably caused at least one extra trip just for my stuff. (sigh)  
> 2\. Prayer for the certification exam tomorrow. I get reimbursed for it...if I pass.  
> 3\. Prayer for my future employer, whoever they are. Please pray that they are precisely what's best for _me_ , per the Lord's plan, and, of course, vice versa.
> 
> Thank you all for your prayers, comments, and encouragement.


	4. Negotiator's Heart

“I know a way,” Brightpaw cried, dancing around the two adults in his excitement. “There’s a back way out of the camp to the gateway. I bet you have to go through the gateway again, don’t you? Can I come? Can I come? Please? I’ll be good, I promise.”

“You certainly _will_ be good,” Granny Cantril clucked at the pup. “For _I_ will be coming along as well.” Dark eyes lifted from the pup to Julianna. “Your heart whispers, dearie, and we’d best follow its prompting.”

Julianna swallowed and nodded. “Show us the way, Brightpaw.”

The pup darted back into the dim environs of the camp, navigating along the cluttered top floor to a rickety staircase made of wood. Julianna gulped before following the pup down the creaking, decrepit stairs. When they reached the next floor, Brightpaw leapt from the stairs and sniffed around, before pricking his ears and leaping forward again. Hag and woman hurried to keep up as the wolf led them to a ramp leading farther down. Julianna heard voices in the distance as the trio descended the ramp, slick with dirt and substances best ignored. To her surprise, her boots kept her upright even when she accidentally stepped on a slippery… _something_ …halfway down.

At the bottom of the ramp, Brightpaw paused. “We’re close,” he whispered to Julianna and Granny Cantril. “This is the hardest part; there’s an old metal thing with metal bars that you can get down if you’re careful. Sometimes I slip on this part.”

“A ladder,” Julianna whispered back. “Where is it? I can go first.”

Brightpaw pointed with one forepaw; Julianna followed his paw and saw the top of the ladder. “Go, dearie,” Granny Cantril murmured, “Above all, _you_ must make it out; we are too close to the Obliviators to protect you if they find us now.”

Julianna braced herself, then shot forward at a full run, racing for the ladder as if she had a pack of ravening demons on her heels. She grabbed the top of the ladder and swung herself around and onto the rungs. Her feet found their perches so quickly that she suspected that either she was practiced with the move or her boots were magical. Julianna pushed aside the idle thought and started down the ladder, choosing speed over stealth. A yip preceded Brightpaw’s appearance; the wolf pup tried to dart down the ladder nose-first and ended up falling instead. Julianna lurched to the side and snatched Brightpaw out of midair as he fell. Going down the ladder with one arm around the pup was harder, but she wasn’t going to drop him. She didn’t look up again until she was on the ground, then she glanced up and scrambled out of Granny Cantril’s way. Brightpaw squirmed, but she didn’t let him down until the two were away from the ladder.

Julianna drew in a breath of relief as she let the pup down. “Okay, now which way?” she asked quietly.

“This way, dearie,” Granny Cantril called, low and soft. The hag pointed at a nearby area that absolutely _flexed_ with magic. When Julianna saw it, she bit back a groan as a memory finally resurfaced.

* * * * *

_She wasn’t sure what had just happened, but she needed to find someone and send them to help…who? She saw a shimmer in the air, flexing in a way that she_ knew _only she could see. Maybe someone could help her there? She stepped through the portal and stumbled over a rock, falling into a large figure. Startled, the figure shifted, throwing her off and sending her tumbling backwards onto another rock._

* * * * *

Julianna pushed herself to her feet and headed towards the gateway, a hag and a wolf pup on her heels. Someone needed help and she wasn’t going to let them down. Once through the gateway, she lifted her head and started scanning the rooftops; she wasn’t sure _why_ , but her gut instinct was insisting that she start high. It didn’t take long to spot what she was looking for and she pointed up at the figure standing right at the edge of the nearby building. “Up there.”

“By the Lion,” Granny Cantril whispered in horror, “What do we do?”

Brightpaw whined in fear and distress, his ears sinking down and his tail tucking between his legs.

But for Julianna, the answer was simple. “I’m going to talk her down,” she informed her two companions. “There’s no time to call for help, so it’s up to me.”

“Well, dearie, you’re not going alone,” Granny Cantril declared, a light in her dark eyes, the light of a challenge met and accepted.

“I’m coming, too,” Brightpaw yipped.

* * * * *

The girl on the ledge sniffled, trying to gin up enough courage to take that final step. No one would care, no one would even notice when she was gone. Her neighbors would probably throw a party or something. And that poor Muggle, who’d only been trying to help; the girl sobbed as she remembered how she’d wanted so _desperately_ to be left alone that her magic had lashed out and she’d _seen_ the Muggle’s eyes go blank as her magic struck. She deserved this, deserved all of what her neighbors did to her.

“Please don’t jump.”

The girl started, turning towards the voice, and felt her eyes go wide. The Muggle, she was back! And she had a hag and a little wolf pup with her! “Wh-what?” the girl stammered.

“Hi there,” the Muggle called, “My name is Julianna…what’s your name?”

For several seconds, the girl just stared, shocked. The answer slipped out without thought. “Vicky.”

“Vicky,” the Muggle mused, “That’s a pretty name.” Without missing a beat, she continued, “Vicky, I’m going to step closer so that you can hear me better. Is that okay?”

Vicky swallowed nervously, but didn’t protest.

The Muggle stepped forward, getting close enough that Vicky could have reached out and touched her. “Good. So, thanks for not jumping. Are you thinking you might?”

Tears ran down Vicky’s face and she nodded. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered, “For what I did to you.”

The Muggle – Julianna – reared back in clear surprise. “What you did to me?”

A miserable head bob. “I just wanted to be alone; you startled me…I didn’t _mean_ to do it.” The girl burst into fresh tears as the Muggle, the hag, and the wolf pup stared at her in shock.

* * * * *

Julianna bit her lip; part of her wanted to just walk away. This girl had – intentionally or not – stolen _everything_ she was from her. But her heart practically _sang_ its defiance of such a selfish move; she _knew_ without being told that if she walked away, she’d regret it and it would destroy her. So, instead, she wriggled closer to the crying girl and pulled her into a hug. “It’s okay,” she soothed, “We can fix it; nobody’s hurt so bad that they can’t recover.” Julianna drew a deep breath. “Now, how about you tell me why you wanted to be alone so badly.”

Vicky was so stunned that it took her a minute to process that Julianna hadn’t walked away, _hadn’t_ left her to commit suicide alone. The sobs died away into sniffles. “I, um, we live in a Muggle neighborhood,” she began, getting a silent nod from her listener. “I’m a Muggleborn,” she added shyly. “When I got my invitation, my parents were so proud of me…and happy, ‘cause we live in kinda a bad neighborhood.”

“They were happy you were going somewhere safer,” Julianna mused aloud.

“Yeah,” Vicky confirmed. “But, um, then my dad got sick and we were all trying to pay the bills and…and he hasn’t gotten better…and Mom’s struggling really hard…and school is expensive and that could be going to help _him_ …and the kids I grew up with think I’m a stuck-up snob…and they call me a snitch…and all sorts of…other names.”

“Does your school have a scholarship program or something?” Julianna asked gently. She frowned at the miserable head shake. “So, your parents are in a bind and you’re being bullied, too. Does that sum it up? Anything else?”

A louder sniff. “My old friend Tasha Redford got attacked two years ago; I almost never get to see her anymore. And the girls who hate her hassle _me_ now, ‘cause I was her friend.”

The other name rang a bell in Julianna’s mind, but she couldn’t figure out _why_ …maybe, no, _probably_ , related to the memories locked away from her. “Wow, that all sounds really tough,” she admitted, “But you know what? You are going to get through this and if you can get through this, you can handle _anything_. I know it seems like the whole world is against you right now, but it’s not, Vicky, it’s not. You’re going to get through school and you’re going to do things we can’t even dream of right now. It might feel impossible right now, but you have the rest of your life, okay? And it's gonna be tough, but it's also gonna be really, really amazing.”

“Really?” Vicky’s voice was small and hesitant.

“Really,” Julianna replied firmly. And inside, even without her memories, her heart thrummed its approval.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Praise the Lord (and pass the apple pie)! I passed my certification test on Saturday with flying colors, as did all of my classmates (well, some of them tested Sunday). As of now, we've been told there _is_ going to be an interview. Maybe. At some point. Honestly, given how many times we've been told there's gonna be an interview and then there isn't...well, I've stopped holding my breath if you know what I mean.
> 
> So, prayer needs:  
> 1\. The interview, wherever or whenever it _finally_ happens. Seriously, at this point, I just want it _done_ so I can focus on Project 3 (unfortunately, my group got stuck with the hardest one *sigh*)  
>  2\. Our final project for my current company. The hardest one on the list, which we got stuck with 'cause we didn't pounce on the easier ones fast enough. Oh well...Jehovah Jirah (The Lord Will Provide)  
> 3\. Continuing prayer for my future employer and that God would guide them to me and vice versa.  
> 4\. Prayer for the upcoming move, whenever that is. I know it has to go _much_ better than the prior move did, but beyond that, I'm still very unsure of myself in the waters of moving from place to place.
> 
> Thank you everyone for your prayers and your comments. They mean the world to me as I continue to fight my way through this trial God has set before me.


	5. What Did You Call Me?

Roy, when he’d first discovered magicals could _teleport_ , had been extremely excited by the idea. The excitement lasted right up until his first Side-Along Apparition…and his immediate loss of breakfast. Subsequent Apparitions hadn’t improved the sensation, but at least he hadn’t thrown up again. So when Giles Side-Along Apparated him to the ‘camp’, Roy just grimaced at the sensation of being pulled through a _way_ too tight tube and moved on. The two Obliviators, finally cottoning onto the fact that Roy wasn’t magical, gave him suspicious looks…right up until Giles gifted them both with a venomous, ‘touch-him-and-die’ glare.

Roy snickered under his breath and walked right past the two cowed Obliviators up to what _looked_ like a female; well, vaguely female, if you ignored the lower jaw that jutted out, the visible canines, the flat nose, the abnormally large height, and the hulking nature of the…lady. She studied him in return, an action that unnerved the cop, even though he tried his best to hide it.

Suddenly she leaned closer, sniffing at him. A _harrumph_ rose from her as she leaned back. “I bid you welcome, Lion-touched,” she rumbled, low, but not as grating as Roy had expected.

Still, Roy quirked a brow. “Lion-touched?” he asked.

Her laugh, like her voice, was low and crackled as her voice had not. “If Granny Cantril wishes to explain, she may, but I will not. You and the other Lion-touched are welcome to come and meet the Lion-touched we found, but the _wizards_ are not.” The…lady…growled at the Obliviators as she finished her sentence.

“Our thanks, ma’am,” Giles replied for Roy; he gave the female a small bow.

A rough nod, then the creature turned, calling, “Rexas! Take these two to Granny Cantril!”

The much younger creature looked enough like the…lady…to be her son; he shuffled uncertainly. “They have left, Mother. The Lion-touched had to go somewhere.”

“What is this?” the lady rumbled angrily. “When did they leave, Rexas?”

“I heard Brightpaw on the hidden exit,” Rexas replied, “He hasn’t left the Lion-touched’s side since she woke up.” He brightened a touch. “She left her leather thing behind, though.”

“Can we see that?” Giles requested politely.

The request was backed up with an impatient hand-wave from their hostess to her son. The young creature slammed one fist against his chest in salute and led Roy and Giles further into the dim, dark camp. Roy was a bit confused when Giles didn’t light his wand, but kept his mouth shut. Rexas stopped at a tattered blanket and reached down, picking up what Roy immediately recognized as a wallet. He offered it to the two men and Roy took it, opening it up only to freeze at the sight of the badge inside.

Mouth dry, he demanded, “You found a woman, right?”

Rexas bobbed his head in confirmation. “Yes, Lion-touched.”

“Giles,” Roy hissed, shoving the wallet badge under his partner’s nose. “It’s Jules.”

Giles went pasty-white in the dim room as he took in the badge and nodded grimly. He placed his wand flat on his palm and ordered, “ _Point Me, Jules Callaghan_.” To Roy’s astonishment, the wand quavered, whirled wildly a moment, then nearly fell off Giles’ palm. Giles had to snatch at his wand to keep it from falling to the ground. The Auror paled even further, then whirled and raced back towards where they’d left the female creature and the two Obliviators.

Roy hustled to keep up with his partner’s clip, confused by the flash of rage he’d seen dart across Giles’ features. The Auror didn’t slow as he approached the Obliviators and the older Obliviator found himself picked up and slammed against the wall by a furious Giles Onasi. “What did you _do_ to her!?” Giles roared.

“We didn’t do anything,” the Obliviator protested, “These _things_ wouldn’t let us _near_ her!”

The female growled at the insult, but otherwise held her peace.

“You did _something_ ,” Giles snarled in the man’s face, “Otherwise my _Point Me_ spell wouldn’t have reacted like it did.”

“Giles,” Roy stepped in, “What’s wrong, what happened to Jules?”

The Obliviator landed on the floor as Giles dropped him, his shoulders hunching in something that looked like grief. Slowly, the Auror turned around; Roy’s stomach dropped at the anguish in his partner’s eyes. “Someone erased all her memories, Roy.” Grim, he held out his wand and repeated his _Point Me_ spell; the Obliviators paled just as badly at the sight of the wand trembling, spinning wildly, and falling off Giles’ palm. “That only happens if the person the _Point Me_ spell is searching for doesn’t…doesn’t know who they are.”

Roy’s hand tightened around Jules’ badge, denial welling up in his soul. “Look…let’s find her first…then we can worry about what happened to her.”

“I can help you, Lion-touched,” a new voice volunteered. They turned to see a female wolf, her ears pricked, her tail up, and her gaze sympathetic. “My son Brightpaw is with her right now. I can track him easily.”

* * * * *

The female wolf, who introduced herself as Yasha, led them away from the camp to a nearby gateway back into the tech world. On the other side, they found themselves in an alley, rather well-kept for an alley, but an alley nonetheless. Yasha quested back and forth for a moment, reminding Roy of a bloodhound searching for a scent.

“They stopped here for a minute,” Yasha declared, still questing, “Brightpaw was afraid of something…I can’t tell what.” The female wolf paused, then bounded forward. “This way.”

The trail took them straight towards a nearby building and Roy just happened to glance up. “Jules,” he rasped, drawing a startled look from Giles, then he drew more attention as he pointed upwards. The two Aurors, the Obliviators, and the wolf gaped at the sight of Jules Callaghan on the edge of a roof. Roy broke free from his panic first and bolted for the door to the building. He hardly noticed that all the rest were right on his heels as he threw himself up the stairs, searching frantically for the door to the roof. He burst out on the roof as Jules backed away from the edge, pulling a young girl with her. Roy skidded to a halt, his breath and adrenaline coming out in a relieved sigh as he realized Jules _hadn’t_ been trying to commit suicide, she’d been saving someone who _was_.

Jules hadn’t looked up, but a wolf pup and a cloaked, cowled figure who _had_ to be the hag turned towards at the new arrivals. The hag cackled-clucked to herself and hobbled over to them. “You might consider having a bit more faith there, sonny,” she chided, “She may not know who she is, but the dearie is hardly about to give up.”

Roy flushed at the rebuke, rubbing at the back of his neck and feeling like a schoolboy called to account in front of the class. Giles saved him. “Roy wasn’t the only one, ma’am. I take it you’re Granny Cantril?”

The hag swept a brief bow. “I am, indeed, sonny.” Her eyes traveled past them to Yasha. “Young Brightpaw did you proud today, Yasha. If not for his trust in the Lion-touched, I might not have been willing to take her advice.”

Yasha nodded solemnly. “Yes, Granny Cantril.”

The pup chose this moment to coming rushing over, bouncing around his mother like the over-eager puppy he was. “Mom! I got to go outside today! And I met a Lion-touched! And she’s nice, really nice! I want to go outside tomorrow, too! Can I, can I?”

Yasha corralled the pup deftly, pulling him close and licking his head. “Not if you scare me the way you did today, Brightpaw,” she scolded. “What if you had fallen?”

“The Lion-touched caught me,” Brightpaw yipped, only to freeze as he realized what he’d implied. “Ummmm…”

Jules’ laughter rang across the rooftop. “Please don’t be angry at your son,” she implored, guiding the nervous girl next to her closer. “If he hadn’t shown us the back way out of your camp, we might not have gotten here in time to help Vicky.”

Yasha glanced between the pup under her forelegs and the nervous girl next to Jules. “Is this true, Brightpaw? Did you help save the human’s life?”

Brightpaw’s head bobbed so fast that it was a blur. “Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh. It was so cool, Mom!” Then he whined. “But Vicky’s Dad is sick and the other humans are being mean to her…can we help, Mom?”

Vicky looked shocked, then she blushed as attention turned to her. “I, um,” she started, before flushing even brighter and looking down. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” The girl wrung her hands together, before taking a deep breath and looking up at Roy and Giles. “You should probably just arrest me now,” she whispered miserably.

Roy blinked, trading looks with Giles, who gamely took the lead. “And why is that?” Giles inquired smoothly.

Vicky ducked her head again. “I, um, I used magic on a Muggle,” she confessed.

Oh. _Oh._ Roy’s eyes widened as he put the pieces together. He studied the girl, noticing that she looked school-age, but she was probably close enough to eighteen…no, wait, the age of majority was _seventeen_ in the magical world…to be charged as an adult. He wasn’t SRU, wasn’t a negotiator like Jules or Greg Parker, but he _was_ pretty sure that anyone willing to commit suicide wasn’t exactly thinking straight.

Giles’ face had gone still, his eyes shadowed as he looked from Vicky to Jules and back. “Actually,” he said in a forced neutral tone, “You used magic on an _Auror_ , miss.”

Roy took the opening to move forward, subtly getting between the two women and the rooftop edge. In a low voice, he asked, “You okay, Jules?”

Up until that exact moment, Jules had been so much herself that Roy had been hoping against hope that she was fine, no memory loss at all. But as light brown eyes turned to him, confusion and an utter _lack_ of recognition in them, his forlorn hope was crushed when she asked, “What did you call me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're enjoying so far, but I have a full scale prayer emergency alert!
> 
> First interview TODAY!
> 
> The above is the full sum of my prayer needs right now. Please, pray for me, particularly between the hours of 3-6 EDT (Eastern Daylight Time).
> 
> Also, if you're feeling _particularly_ generous, please also read and comment.
> 
> But pray. Above all, if it's a choice between commenting and praying, I want the praying.
> 
> Lord help me.


	6. Who You Are

Both Ed Lane and Greg Parker met them at Toronto’s St. Mungo’s Hospital; the men were grave when Jules greeted them politely, but with none of the familiarity that _should_ have been there. Roy spotted Parker’s two kids lurking in the background, the pair even more upset than he felt. Vicky was pale and frightened, ironically clinging to the woman whose memory she had inadvertently stolen in the face of so many Aurors who were unhappy with her.

Parker softened enough to coax the young woman away from Jules so the Healers could move in and examine Jules. Ed cornered Roy and Giles, practically vibrating with outrage. “Any idea what happened?”

Giles sighed heavily, running one hand through his hair. “From what Vicky says, she was already…extremely agitated…when Jules initially found her. She’s still young enough that accidental magic isn’t _unheard_ of, even if it’s rare. Maybe Jules startled her, maybe she reacted to something Jules said…that part isn’t very clear, but her magic lashed out.” The Auror swallowed hard. “Undoing a _properly_ applied _Obliviate_ is hard enough…an accidental magic _Obliviate_ …”

“Is a mess and a half,” Ed remarked. At Giles’ nod, his shoulders slumped. “What are you going to do?”

Roy cleared his throat, drawing attention. “I’m not sure we _should_ do anything…when we got there, Jules was talking her off a ledge. Right now, Jules knows her and the people who found her better than any of us…is justice worth it if we accidently make Jules afraid of us?”

Ed’s expression went back to grim as Giles added quietly, “Also, the stress the girl is currently under would likely be seen as a mitigating factor. Jules may be an Auror, but in the eyes of the purebloods, she was off-duty and therefore ‘just another Muggle’. Vicky is a Muggleborn, but she has magic, so…”

“So they’re more likely to just let her off the hook,” Ed concluded. He looked at Roy. “How did she react to you?”

“She didn’t recognize her nickname,” Roy replied, “And, well, she _seemed_ okay with me and Giles, but we also had Vicky with us, so…”

“Copy,” Ed agreed, seeing where his brother was going; his shoulders slumped farther.

The three men moved back over to Parker, the kids, and Vicky, their discouraged expressions pretty much saying it all; Ed whispered in Parker’s ear, bringing him up to speed as much as he could. Giles took Vicky aside for an official statement, getting as many details as he could, while Roy wandered to the two teenagers, offering a few pitiful attempts at conversation that died out all too quickly.

* * * * *

“I’m afraid we have to recommend that Auror Callaghan be admitted to our Long-Term Care Ward,” the Healer announced soberly. “The effects of the _Obliviate_ , applied as they were by accidental magic, are far too extensive to risk removing.”

“Not happening,” Ed snapped angrily. As if they’d let that happen to Jules on _their_ watch.

“She will never be able to function in Muggle society again,” the Healer argued, “She would have to be retaught _everything_ , from basic skills to the tools of whatever trade she _might_ be suited for. She could never work as an Auror again; she’s lost too much for that.”

“You don’t even want to give her that chance,” Roy snapped, incensed. “Maybe she _could_ relearn how to be a cop, but not if you won’t even give her the _chance_.”

The Healer stared at Roy, his expression a mix of incredulous and disdainful. “And how,” the Healer inquired sarcastically, “would you propose to go about this venture, Auror Lane? Perhaps a bug’s eye to practice on for your Muggle firelegs? A children’s reader to teach her the alphabet?” A sneer. “Stories about her lost past?”

* * * * *

Lance smirked to himself as Alanna carefully raised _just_ enough of a ruckus to pull attention away from the room Aunt Jules was in. The brunet teen slipped inside and pushed the door closed as gently as he could. Aunt Jules was sitting on the bed, gazing out the window, posture so very _her_ that it made his heart ache.

“Hi, Aunt Jules,” he greeted her quietly, perching right beside her.

She started, turning with a surprised look in her eyes. “Do I know you?” she asked, before she paused, studying him more closely. “I _do_ know you,” she cried softly, “But I don’t know from where.”

Lance smiled at her. “I’m your boss’s nephew,” he explained. “Did the Healer tell you what they think?”

“No, they just left.”

The teen cast a glare at the closed door. “Basically, they think we should just give up on you, Aunt Jules. But we’re not gonna,” he finished, turning back to her. “If you’re willing, I want to try something.”

He held still as Aunt Jules’ eyes narrowed, examining him, considering his proposal. “What do you want to try?”

“I want to see if my magic can find your memories and bring them back,” the boy said simply. “I don’t know if it will work, but I’m willing to try.”

Silence hung between them. Then Aunt Jules bit her lip. “Okay.”

* * * * *

The teenager beamed at her, sliding off the bed to come and stand right in front of her. Julianna tried to keep from trembling at the idea of _letting_ a magical use magic on her, on her memories. The boy’s blue eyes turned gold, power rising in the room, flaring around _both_ of them. “ _Mymerian hwaene thu béon_ **(1)**,” he whispered, his voice intense despite the lack of volume. Julianna found her eyes drawn to his as if his were a magnet. And when she looked in them, she _saw_.

* * * * *

_She peeked into the briefing room, curious about why Lou and Spike were already in there when their shift hadn’t started yet and they weren’t in uniform. “Oh,” she cried, seeing the two youngsters at the table, “Who are you two sweethearts?”_

* * * * *

_“Oh, yeah, I’m Sierra One.”_

* * * * *

_Jules swallowed hard._ Me? _“Oh, Sarge, if you’re right, this girl’s been in here, like, eight years.” The petite constable hesitated. “We’re dealing with some serious Stockholm syndrome. She probably doesn’t even know who she is anymore.”_

* * * * *

_Sam was racing back towards her with the shield; trap, it was a trap. Ed was yelling for them to get to cover and she had a sense of imminent dread. A bird’s cry shattered the air and she saw a flying ball of violet fire race along the rooftop, leaving behind a pillar of flames that soared several feet in the air._

* * * * *

Lou…oh, God, no, not Lou, please, this can’t be happening. _Her head was buried in Wordy’s shoulder, tears soaking his vest, when Sam yelled for the Boss. She turned and there he was! Alive, not dead; in one piece, not broken and scattered on the ground. She gasped, her hands coming up to her mouth; still crying, but now she was crying in relief and joy._

* * * * *

_The fading red glow paused, not dying further, but not strengthening either. Jules joined her teammate. “Sarge, we saw what it would be like without you; I don’t_ want _that…not now, not when you have so_ much _left to do, so much_ life _left to live.”_

* * * * *

_She’d assumed…stupid, why had she assumed…she_ knew _how much Sarge loved his_ nipotes _. Compared to them, Haley was a distant second-best; he would have given up any information that louse Kevin wanted for a chance to survive and see his kids again. Jules found a little corner to hide in for a few moments and recover her composure._

_“Jules?”_

_She couldn’t help it, she turned and looked. Sarge, as affectionate as he always was. “Sarge?”_

_He came right up to her, one arm going around her shoulders. “I’m not mad at you, Jules. If not for the kids, you’d have been absolutely right today.”_

_“But you_ do _have the kids,” Jules pointed out softly._

_“Yeah, I do,” he agreed. “I got a second chance, Jules. Not just them, either…all of_ you _gave me a second chance, too. More than I deserve, to tell the truth.”_

_Jules leaned her head against him ever so briefly. “More than any of us deserve, Sarge.”_

* * * * *

_She heard Wordy scream Spike’s name and felt her heart clench. No, they were so close, they couldn’t be too late. When Wordy, Spike, and Sam appeared, her breath came out in a whoosh, relief shining in her eyes. Her gaze shifted to the preening violet phoenix and she mouthed, “Thank you,” behind the British Aurors’ backs._

* * * * *

_Sarge had just been forced to relive not only this night’s chaos, but the chaos of another night, when he’d done all he could and a member of his team hesitated. But here he was, encouraging_ them _, giving his best, just like he always did. “We did all we could tonight,” he started, looking around at them. “Hey, I’m proud of all of you.” He drew a breath, looking like he was clinging to his ‘team sense’ with all he had. “I’m darn proud to be a member of this team,” he whispered._

_Jules gazed up at him, smiling a little. “Yeah,” she agreed. Then she hugged him, as hard as she could._

* * * * *

The argument picked up steam, the Healer all but putting his foot down at the idea of _ever_ letting Jules Callaghan out of his care and the four Aurors making it clear they wouldn’t accept _his_ position of just writing Jules off.

“Hey!” The female voice broke into the mix, demanding attention. “Don’t _I_ get a say in this?”

The Healer swung around, the scowl on his face atrocious. “Miss, please return to the exam room and I’ll be with you shortly.”

“That’s _Constable_ Callaghan to you,” the new arrival snapped, her eyes flashing. “Or Auror, if you prefer. Not _Miss_.” She smirked as the Healer gaped at her and turned towards the other men. “Sorry for scaring everyone,” she apologized.

“Jules?” Greg asked, tentative even though he’d already spotted an identical smirk on his _nipotes’_ faces.

“Hey, Sarge,” Jules replied, her smirk changing to a smile as she walked right up to him and hugged him.

He hugged her back, then passed her off to Ed. Roy was the one who asked. “How?”

A giggle came from the newly restored Jules. “Apparently, Roy, Old Magic trumps Latin Magic when it comes to memory spells.”

 

[1] Old English for ‘Remember who you are.’ Website used is: http://www.oldenglishtranslator.co.uk/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, got through that interview. Can I say just how much I _hate_ interviews where they ask you questions _they_ know you don't know? Anyway, just focusing on Project 3 for right now. Everything else I leave in the Lord's capable hands.
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed...just the epilogue left.
> 
> Happy Reading!  
> sunstarunicorn


	7. Epilogue

It wasn’t all that hard to talk the group into going back to the camp so Jules could thank the beings who’d helped her after her first encounter with Vicky. But when they reached the camp, it was deserted; there was no sign that anyone had ever lived there at all, much less only hours earlier.

“I didn’t imagine it, did I?” Jules asked Roy and Giles.

“If you did, so did I,” Roy drawled, poking around; Giles nodded agreement. “Plus, it sounded like those two morons who called us in had been here before.”

“I think I found something,” Ed called, drawing the group over to the tattered blanket Jules remembered waking up on. Jules gasped softly at the sight of the tapestry, with a note tucked inside the roll of fabric.

She picked up the fabric, tugging the note free. Feeling the curious looks, she read the note aloud.

_“Dearie, I trust by now you have remembered yourself. The Lion’s Heirs could hardly let such a thing go on for long. I leave you a minor token of our appreciation and Brightpaw sends his regrets that he could not farewell you properly, but leave we must. I fear we have become distasteful to those that rule these lands by refusing those arrogant Obliviators entry into our camp. I do not regret it, dearie, nor will I ever. Six hundred of your years I have wandered, always avoiding the light of the sun, and you gave it back to me. Back to my people. We will not fear the sun again because of you and the circumstances that brought you to us._

_If ever you need us, the Traitor’s Army, we will come. We have decided, at long last, that we will wear our past proudly and align ourselves with those who once served the Just King Edmund._

_If you would be so kind, dearie, pass on a warning to the Lion’s Heirs. Tash is ever seeking to bring down what little remains in this world of Narnia; his plots are many and as fine as spider’s silk. But he cannot stand against the Light, against the Lion, and always there is a way to avoid his schemes._

_Lion’s Blessing, Julianna Callaghan,_

_Granny Cantril”_

Jules ducked her head a bit, but faithfully read every last word. A curious Alanna took the tapestry and opened it up, her brother casually conjuring an orb of light so they could all see it. Both siblings gasped a little at the playing trio of animals, watched over by the Lion nearby. Looking at it now, Jules was pretty sure she knew who all three animals were supposed to be, but she didn’t say anything.

“Maybe we’ll run across them again someday,” Alanna suggested hopefully.

“Maybe,” Jules verbally agreed, though she privately wasn’t so sure. “They did help me when I needed it.”

“And left a warning,” Lance mused to himself. “We should keep our eyes open; I doubt Tash is all that pleased that his gambit today failed…and partially due to a group of ‘Fell Creatures’.”

“You don’t think they’re Fell?” Jules questioned, a little stung that Lance sounded like he didn’t believe her.

Blue eyes met hers. “I believe they are,” the teen replied, “But, really, how Fell can they be if they’re on the side of Good?” He grinned at the looks he got and turned to saunter out. Looking back over his shoulder, he added, “They believe in Narnia…and that’s good enough for me.”

 

_~ Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! Thanks so much for sticking with me through the wild ride of the last nine (soon, ten) weeks. It's not over yet, but by the end of next week, my training will be. Then, if I don't have a job, onto staging for me. Which will probably be lots of studying and interviews. Joy. Still, if I make it that far, it probably means I will not have to deal with this company that I'm ambivalent about. So a mix. I don't know which I'm praying for, so I simply ask for you to pray that God would continue to direct my steps as I travel along this path.
> 
> In other news, next Tuesday, May 1st, 2018, starts off our next story "In the Paws of the Lion". Have a great weekend all and Happy Reading!  
> sunstarunicorn

**Author's Note:**

> Well, in a last minute surprise, a test we'd _thought_ wasn't going to happen at all has been scheduled for today. Which means I should've spent last night studying. Unfortunately, last evening was also my first up close and personal introduction to safe places not being so...safe. One would _think_ , would they not, that the two safest places in the world for their personal belongings would be A) their living space and B) their workplace. Yeah, well, not so much. And the worst part is, I only found out when I needed to pay cash for something...and didn't have _any_.
> 
>  
> 
> _*sniffle*_
> 
>  
> 
> Well, much as I don't _want_ to, here are my prayer requests:  
>  1\. Please pray for the thief, whoever they are...  
> 2\. Please pray that this will not distract any more than it already has from my studying.  
> 3\. Along the same lines, please pray that my studying this weekend will be productive and that the Lord will help me master these concepts and this program.  
> 4\. Finally, I have perhaps lured my roommates into going to church (I dangled a trip to Walmart afterwards in front of their noses). Please pray that the Lord would reach them, wherever they are in their walk with Him.
> 
> I'm done... _*slinks off to bed after writing this author's note the night before posting*_


End file.
